


Down From the Door

by isabeau25



Series: April 2018 Platonic VLD Week [7]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-05-23 03:49:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14926571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isabeau25/pseuds/isabeau25
Summary: Lance makes it home at last.





	Down From the Door

**Author's Note:**

> Day 7 of Platonic VLD week (April 2018)

Lance froze, his fist hovering in front of the door. He had been thinking about this moment for years, for what felt like a lifetime, and now that he was here, everything felt twisted up inside him. It had been so long, and the only message they had been able to get out had been with Sam.

What if they thought he was dead, or were angry with him for leaving so suddenly, and how would they react to finding out that this was just a visit, that being a Paladin was a life long job, and he wasn’t going to be staying home.

Red gave him a mental push, equal parts fondness and exasperation, and a clear ‘just knock already’.

They had actually been on earth for close to three weeks now, dealing with diplomatic negations and putting on presentation with the Lions and Voltron to allow people to see just what this thing was they had heard so much about. One of the things everyone had agreed on was that the pilots should remain anonymous to protect their families.

Red nudged him again and Lance knocked, then waited with his hands shoved in his pockets.

Would they be mad he had waited so long to get in touch with them after returning to earth? He had wanted to right away, but it just hadn’t been safe until they had all the diplomatic stuff worked out.

A little girl of eight or nine answered the door, looking up at him curiously.

“Who are you?” she demanded.

Lance almost cried at the sight of her. Elena hadn’t even started school yet when he left.

“Well, I’m…”

“Elena, that’s not how you answer the door,” Veronica called from somewhere in the house.

“Mami, it’s a guy!” Elena called back, “he has a cool jacket.”

Lance’s breath caught in his throat at his sister’s voice, and his eyes started to sting.

“Cool jacket?” Veronica came into the hallway and froze.

“Hi,” Lance waved weakly.

“Lance?” she stared at him wide eyed.

“Yeah, I’m sorry…” Lance wasn’t even sure what he was apologizing for, so many words felt tangled on his tongue.

He didn’t get the chance to figure it out. Veronica darted around her daughter and flung her arms around Lance’s neck with a yell. He sighed deeply and pressed his face into her shoulder, holding her tight. She smelt like kitchen spices and salt, and she still wore the same perfume.

“Lance!” she yelled, tightening her grip on him as if he’d try to get away, “Mami! Ita! It’s Lance!”

“Uncle Lance?” Elena wrinkled her nose at him, clearly not entirely convinced.

“Lance?”

Lance lifted his head and blinked blurry eyes at his mother as she hurried to the doorway, barely noticing Veronica step back so his mother could grab him.

“We were so worried,” she told him, pulling him down to press kisses to cheek, “we saw the news, but they wouldn’t release the names of any of the pilots. We were afraid…”

“I know, I know,” Lance had to stoop lower then he remembered to press his face into her shoulder, “I’m sorry. I’ve missed you all so much. We just had to…”

His voice caught in a sob, and he sunk deeper into her hug.

“Veronica, call your father and brothers and tell them your brother’s home,” she ordered, “tell them to hurry up!”

Veronica grinned, patting Elena’s head as she hurried by her. Elena starred up at Lance for a moment longer then marched up to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. She couldn’t reach all the way yet.

“You’re Uncle Lance,” she announced, “you gave me my babu shark. He sleeps with me every night and eats up all the bad dreams.”

“Yeah,” Lance laughed wetly, dropping one hand to cradle the back of her head, “that was me.”

“Mi pececito,” his mother murmured, cradling his face in her hands, “we knew you’d find your way back to us.”

“Yes, Mami,” Lance rested his forehead against hers, “I made it home.”


End file.
